'The Wind in the Willows' Quotes - Kenneth Grahame 'The Wind in the Willows' Quotes Lines from Kenneth Grahame Sign Up for Our Free Newsletters Thanks, You're in! What I Learned About Today You might also enjoy: Health Tip of the Day Recipe of the Day There was an error. Please try again. Please select a newsletter. Please enter a valid email address. Did you mean ? "The Piper at the Gates of Dawn", frontispiece to a 1913 edition. Paul Bransom Study Guide 'The Wind in the Willows' Review is a favorite tale (full of colorful animal characters), by Kenneth Grahame. Here are a few quotes from that famous work. 'The Wind in the Willows' Quotes "The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms.

Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 "After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 "There is nothing--absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 continue reading below our video 10 Best Universities in the United States "The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated.

By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spell-bound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 "Weasels--and stoats--and foxes--and so on. They're all right in a way--I'm very good friends with them--pass the time of day when we meet, and all that--but they break out sometimes, there's no denying it, and then--well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 "'Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World,' said the Rat. 'And that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or me.

I've never been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at all.'" - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 1 "All along the backwater, Up tails all!" - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 2 "Glorious, stirring sight! The poetry of motion! The real way to travel! The only way to travel! Here today--in next week tomorrow! Villages skipped, towns and cities jumped--always somebody else's horizon! O bliss! O poop-poop! O my! O my!" - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 2 "Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch.

2 "Somehow, it soon seemed taken for granted by all three of them that the trip was a settled thing; and the Rat, though still unconvinced in his mind, allowed his good-nature to over-ride his personal objections." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 2 "A careful inspection showed them that, even if they succeeded in righting it by themselves, the cart would travel no longer. The axles were in a hopeless state, and the missing wheel was shattered into pieces." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 2 "It's never the wrong time to call on Toad. Early or late he's always the same fellow. Always good-tempered, always glad to see you, always sorry when you go!" - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 2 "The Mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the Badger. He seemed, by all accounts, to be such an important personage and, though rarely visible, to make his unseen influence felt by everybody about the place." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch.

3 "Badger hates Society, and invitations, and dinner, and all that sort of thing." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 3 "The whole wood seemed running now, running hard, hunting, chasing, closing in round something or--somebody? In panic, he began to run too, aimlessly, he knew not whither." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 3 "There was the noise of a bolt shot back, and the door opened a few inches, enough to show a long snout and a pair of sleepy blinking eyes." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 4 "Animals arrived, liked the look of the place, took up their quarters, settled down, spread, and flourished. They didn't bother themselves about the past - they never do; they're too busy." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 4 "The Wild Wood is pretty well populated by now; with all the usual lot, good, bad, and indifferent--I name no names.

It takes all sorts to make a world." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 4 "I see you don't understand, and I must explain it to you. Well, very long ago, on the spot where the Wild Wood waves now, before ever it had planted itself and grown up to what it now is, there was a city--a city of people, you know. Here, where we are standing, they lived, and walked, and talked, and slept, and carried on their business. Here they stabled their horses and feasted, from here they rode out to fight or drove out to trade. They were a powerful people, and rich, and great builders. They built to last, for they thought their city would last for ever." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 4 "People come--they stay for a while, they flourish, they build--and they go. It is their way. But we remain. There were badgers here, I've been told, long before that same city ever came to be. And now there are badgers here again.

We are an enduring lot, and we may move out for a time, but we wait, and are patient, and back we come. And so it will ever be." - Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows, Ch. 4 Prev The Annotated Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame - Google Books The Annotated Wind in the Willows 0 Reviews "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing-absolutely nothing-half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats."-the Water Rat to the Mole An instant bestseller upon its initial publication in 1908, The Wind in the Willows has become one of the beloved stories of all time. How could Ratty and Mole have known when they took to the river over one hundred years ago that they would begin a phenomenon that would produce one of the most oft-quoted lines in British literature, and inspire everyone from the creator of Winnie-the-Pooh to Pink Floyd?

Drawing from more than a decade of research, Annie Gauger, one of the world's leading experts on Kenneth Grahame and The Wind in the Willows, now presents a fascinating new annotated edition that reintroduces readers to Otter, curmudgeonly Badger, and rollicking, boastful Toad, while revealing the secrets behind this treasured classic. In The Annotated Wind in the Willows, readers will discover the sheer joy of the original text, restored to the original 1908 version, illustrated with hundreds of full-color images-including the beloved drawings by E. H. Shepard and Arthur Rackham. This edition also includes Shepard's famous map of the Wild Wood and rarely seen images by illustrators Graham Robertson, Paul Bransom, Nancy Barnhart, and Wyndham Payne. In an illuminating preface, Gauger explains how Grahame came to write the novel, which began as a bedtime story and then became a series of letters he wrote to his son, Alastair.

This edition reproduces the original letters in their entirety and includes nearly a thousand delightful annotations on everything from automobiles (Toad drove an Armstrong Hardcastle Special Eight) and early motorcar etiquette to modern manifestations (Disneyland's Mr. Toad's Wild Ride). She reveals how William John Cavendish Bentinck-Scott, the peculiar Fifth Duke of Portland, built an extensive network of underground tunnels, thus inspiring the character of Badger, and she puts Grahame's work in literary context, comparing him to Dickens, Rudyard Kipling, A. A. Milne, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Finally, new to this edition, long buried in the Kenneth Grahame papers, are the notes, letters, and writings by Alastair Grahame and his governess, including several pieces by Kenneth Grahame himself that have never been published before. With a stunning, lyrical tribute to Grahame by Brian Jacques, the internationally best-selling author of the Redwall series, The Annotated Wind in the Willows should prove a most beautiful and enduring tribute to Grahame's masterpiece. The Annotated Wind in the Willows | W. W.

Norton & Company The Annotated Wind in the Willows With an Introduction by Brian Jacques Sign up for the monthly New Releases email. Please enter a valid email address. By signing up you agree to W. W. Norton's privacy policy and terms of use . Thank you! Overview | Inside the Book To celebrate The Wind in the Willows, scholar Annie Gauger offers this beautifully illustrated edition of Kenneth Grahame’s classic—complete with rare photographs of the Grahames, their friends, and illustrations from the first five editions. “Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolutely nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.”—the Water Rat to the Mole An instant bestseller upon its initial publication in 1908, The Wind in the Willows has become one of the beloved stories of all time. How could Ratty and Mole have known when they took to the river over one hundred years ago that they would begin a phenomenon that would produce one of the most oft-quoted lines in British literature, and inspire everyone from the creator of Winnie-the-Pooh to Pink Floyd?

Drawing from more than a decade of research, Annie Gauger, one of the world’s leading experts on Kenneth Grahame and The Wind in the Willows, now presents a fascinating new annotated edition that reintroduces readers to Otter, curmudgeonly Badger, and rollicking, boastful Toad, while revealing the secrets behind this treasured classic. In The Annotated Wind in the Willows, readers will discover the sheer joy of the original text, restored to the original 1908 version, illustrated with hundreds of full-color images—including the beloved drawings by E. H. Shepard and Arthur Rackham. This edition also includes Shepard’s famous map of the Wild Wood and rarely seen images by illustrators Graham Robertson, Paul Bransom, Nancy Barnhart, and Wyndham Payne. In an illuminating preface, Gauger explains how Grahame came to write the novel, which began as a bedtime story and then became a series of letters he wrote to his son, Alastair. This edition reproduces the original letters in their entirety and includes nearly a thousand delightful annotations on everything from automobiles (Toad drove an Armstrong Hardcastle Special Eight) and early motorcar etiquette to modern manifestations (Disneyland’s Mr.

Toad’s Wild Ride). She reveals how William John Cavendish Bentinck-Scott, the peculiar Fifth Duke of Portland, built an extensive network of underground tunnels, thus inspiring the character of Badger, and she puts Grahame’s work in literary context, comparing him to Dickens, Rudyard Kipling, A. A. Milne, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Finally, new to this edition, long buried in the Kenneth Grahame papers, are the notes, letters, and writings by Alastair Grahame and his governess, including several pieces by Kenneth Grahame himself that have never been published before. With a stunning, lyrical tribute to Grahame by Brian Jacques, the internationally best-selling author of the Redwall series, The Annotated Wind in the Willows should prove a most beautiful and enduring tribute to Grahame’s masterpiece.

Book Details 8.8 × 10.3 in / 480 pages Sales Territory: Worldwide “[Gauger] by far [is] the more extensive and detailed of the two annotators.” — Charles McGrath, The New York Times “[Jacques’ introduction is] a paean to the story and its heroes that is in delightful harmony with the book’s spirit…richly illustrated throughout.” — Katherine A. Powers, Boston Globe “Beautiful.” — Meghan Cox Gurdon, National Review “[I]nsights that burnish the book…enrich the experience of reading the book…it’s the introduction…that give[s] us a new relationship to the story.” — Jeremy McCarter, Newsweek “[Gauger] provides revealing insights into the psychological and social genesis of The Wind in the Willows…illuminating…analysis of the pictures…lovers of The Wind in the Willows are surely indebted to Ms.

Gauger’s work, and her readers will love seeing illustrations from so many editions.” — Claire Hopley, Washington Times “[A] superlative book...It is the ultimate desk-bound person’s fantasy scheme.” — Roger Lewis, The Daily Express “A beautiful and fascinating book which surely must become the definitive edition for any lovers of Kenneth Grahame.

Annie Gauger has produced a lavish and scholarly work which still allows us to enjoy the original story without all the incredible research feeling unnecessarily intrusive.” — John O'Farrell 9780563536864 - Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham, Kenneth Grahame - AbeBooks 9780563536864 - Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham, Kenneth Grahame You Searched For: Results (1 - 14) of 14 Sort By ISBN 10: 0563536861 ISBN 13: 9780563536864 Used Paperback ISBN 10: 0563536861 ISBN 13: 9780563536864 New Destination, Rates & Speeds Item Description: BBC Audio, A Division Of Random House, United Kingdom, 2002. CD-Audio. Book Condition: New. Abridged edition. 138 x 126 mm. Language: English . Brand New.

There is nothing, absolutely nothing, half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. When the Water Rat invites the unassuming Mole to spend his first day ever in a boat on the river, and wise Badger comes along for the ride as well, so begins a marvelous season of adventure for the three friends. Mr. Toad (he of Toad Hall) completes a happy foursome, but his tendency to get into hot water leads him into some rather hair-raising scrapes of his own. From an idyllic riverside picnic to a snowy encounter in the Wild Woods, and from poop-pooping in Toad s shiny new motor car to fighting against the massed ranks of Stoats, Weasels, and Ferrets in a battle for Toad Hall, there s never a dull moment when they are all together! In his own inimitable style, Alan Bennett gives voice to each and every character in Kenneth Grahame s beguiling novel. Bookseller Inventory # AAZ9780563536864 Destination, Rates & Speeds Item Description: BBC Audio, A Division Of Random House, United Kingdom, 2002. CD-Audio. Book Condition: New.

Abridged edition. 138 x 126 mm. Language: English . Brand New. There is nothing, absolutely nothing, half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. When the Water Rat invites the unassuming Mole to spend his first day ever in a boat on the river, and wise Badger comes along for the ride as well, so begins a marvelous season of adventure for the three friends. Mr. Toad (he of Toad Hall) completes a happy foursome, but his tendency to get into hot water leads him into some rather hair-raising scrapes of his own. From an idyllic riverside picnic to a snowy encounter in the Wild Woods, and from poop-pooping in Toad s shiny new motor car to fighting against the massed ranks of Stoats, Weasels, and Ferrets in a battle for Toad Hall, there s never a dull moment when they are all together! In his own inimitable style, Alan Bennett gives voice to each and every character in Kenneth Grahame s beguiling novel.

Bookseller Inventory # AAZ9780563536864 Destination, Rates & Speeds Item Description: BBC Audiobooks Ltd, 2002. Book Condition: New. 2002. Abridged edition. Audio CD. Portraying each character in his own inimitable fashion, Alan Bennett reads the original story of Ratty, Mole, Badger and, of course, Toad. Series: BBC Radio Collection. BIC Classification: YFA. Category: (J) Children / Juvenile. Dimension: 147 x 127 x 24. Weight in Grams: 174. Series: BBC Radio Collection. Portraying each character in his own inimitable fashion, Alan Bennett reads the original story of Ratty, Mole, Badger and, of course, Toad. Cateogry: (J) Children / Juvenile. BIC Classification: YFA. Dimension: 147 x 127 x 24. Weight: 186. . . . . . .

Bookseller Inventory # V9780563536864 Destination, Rates & Speeds Item Description: BBC Audiobooks Ltd. Book Condition: New. 2002. Abridged edition. Audio CD. Portraying each character in his own inimitable fashion, Alan Bennett reads the original story of Ratty, Mole, Badger and, of course, Toad. Series: BBC Radio Collection. BIC Classification: YFA. Category: (J) Children / Juvenile. Dimension: 147 x 127 x 24. Weight in Grams: 174. Series: BBC Radio Collection. Portraying each character in his own inimitable fashion, Alan Bennett reads the original story of Ratty, Mole, Badger and, of course, Toad. Cateogry: (J) Children / Juvenile. BIC Classification: YFA. Dimension: 147 x 127 x 24. Weight: 186. . . . . . Books ship from the US and Ireland.

Bookseller Inventory # V9780563536864 Destination, Rates & Speeds Item Description: BBC Audiobooks Ltd, 2002. Audio CD. Book Condition: New. Brand New Book. Shipping: Once your order has been confirmed and payment received, your order will then be processed. The book will be located by our staff, packaged and despatched to you as quickly as possible. From time to time, items get mislaid en route. If your item fails to arrive, please contact us first. We will endeavour to trace the item for you and where necessary, replace or refund the item. Please do not leave negative feedback without contacting us first. All orders will be dispatched within two working days. If you have any quesions please contact us. Bookseller Inventory # V9780563536864 The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame: Ch. 1: The River Bank Ch. 1: The River Bank THE RIVER BANK THE Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home.

First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said, "Bother!" and "O blow!" and also "Hang spring-cleaning!" and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gravelled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged, and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, "Up we go! Up we go!" till at last, pop!

his snout came out into the sunlight and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow. "This is fine!" he said to himself. "This is better than whitewashing!" The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout. Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side. "Hold up!" said an elderly rabbit at the gap. "Sixpence for the privilege of passing by the private road!" He was bowled over in an instant by the impatient and contemptuous Mole, who trotted along the side of the hedge chaffing the other rabbits as they peeped hurriedly from their holes to see what the row was about. "Onion-sauce! Onion-sauce!" he remarked jeeringly, and was gone before they could think of a thoroughly satisfactory reply. Then they all started grumbling at each other. "How stupid you are!

Why didn't you tell him—" "Well, why didn't you say—" "You might have reminded him—" and so on, in the usual way; but, of course, it was then much too late, as is always the case. It all seemed too good to be true. Hither and thither through the meadows he rambled busily, along the hedgerows, across the copses, finding everywhere birds building, flowers budding, leaves thrusting—everything happy, and progressive, and occupied. And instead of having an uneasy conscience pricking him and whispering "whitewash!" he somehow could only feel how jolly it was to be the only idle dog among all these busy citizens. After all, the best part of a holiday is perhaps not so much to be resting yourself, as to see all the other fellows busy working. He thought his happiness was complete when, as he meandered aimlessly along, suddenly he stood by the edge of a full-fed river.

Never in his life had he seen a river before—this sleek, sinuous, full-bodied animal, chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle and leaving them with a laugh, to fling itself on fresh playmates that shook themselves free, and were caught and held again. All was a-shake and a-shiver—glints and gleams and sparkles, rustle and swirl, chatter and bubble. The Mole was bewitched, entranced, fascinated. By the side of the river he trotted as one trots, when very small, by the side of a man who holds one spellbound by exciting stories; and when tired at last, he sat on the bank, while the river still chattered on to him, a babbling procession of the best stories in the world, sent from the heart of the earth to be told at last to the insatiable sea.

As he sat on the grass and looked across the river, a dark hole in the bank opposite, just above the water's edge, caught his eye, and dreamily he fell to considering what a nice, snug dwelling-place it would make for an animal with few wants and fond of a bijou riverside residence, above flood level and remote from noise and dust. As he gazed, something bright and small seemed to twinkle down in the heart of it, vanished, then twinkled once more like a tiny star. But it could hardly be a star in such an unlikely situation; and it was too glittering and small for a glow-worm. Then, as he looked, it winked at him, and so declared itself to be an eye; and a small face began gradually to grow up round it, like a frame round a picture. A brown little face, with whiskers. A grave round face, with the same twinkle in its eye that had first attracted his notice. Small neat ears and thick silky hair. It was the Water Rat! Then the two animals stood and regarded each other cautiously. "Hullo, Mole!" said the Water Rat. "Hullo, Rat!" said the Mole.

"Would you like to come over?" enquired the Rat presently. "Oh, it's all very well to talk," said the Mole rather pettishly, he being new to a river and riverside life and its ways. The Rat said nothing, but stooped and unfastened a rope and hauled on it; then lightly stepped into a little boat which the Mole had not observed. It was painted blue outside and white within, and was just the size for two animals; and the Mole's whole heart went out to it at once, even though he did not yet fully understand its uses. The Rat sculled smartly across and made fast. Then he held up his fore-paw as the Mole stepped gingerly down. "Lean on that!" he said. "Now then, step lively!" and the Mole to his surprise and rapture found himself actually seated in the stern of a real boat. "This has been a wonderful day!" said he, as the Rat shoved off and took to the sculls again.

"Do you know, I've never been in a boat before in all my life." It was the Water Rat "What?" cried the Rat, open-mouthed: "Never been in a—you never—well I—what have you been doing, then?" "Is it so nice as all that?" asked the Mole shyly, though he was quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him. "Nice? It's the only thing," said the Water Rat solemnly as he leant forward for his stroke. "Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolute nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing," he went on dreamily: "messing—about—in—boats; messing—" "Look ahead, Rat!" cried the Mole suddenly. It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the boat, his heels in the air.

"—about in boats—or with boats," the Rat went on composedly, picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. "In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not. Look here! If you've really nothing else on hand this morning, supposing we drop down the river together, and have a long day of it?" The Mole waggled his toes from sheer happiness, spread his chest with a sigh of full contentment, and leant back blissfully into the soft cushions. "What a day I'm having!" he said. "Let us start at once!" "Hold hard a minute, then!" said the Rat. He looped the painter through a ring in his landing-stage, climbed up into his hole above, and after a short interval reappeared staggering under a fat wicker luncheon-basket.

"Shove that under your feet," he observed to the Mole, as he passed it down into the boat. Then he untied the painter and took the sculls again. "What's inside it?" asked the Mole, wriggling with curiosity. "There's cold chicken inside it," replied the Rat briefly: "coldtonguecoldhamcoldbeefpickledgherkinssaladfrenchrolls– cresssandwichespottedmeatgingerbeerlemonadesodawater—" "O stop, stop!" cried the Mole in ecstasies. "This is too much!" "Do you really think so?" enquired the Rat seriously. "It's only what I always take on these little excursions; and the other animals are always telling me that I'm a mean beast and cut it very fine!" The Mole never heard a word he was saying. Absorbed in the new life he was entering upon, intoxicated with the sparkle, the ripple, the scents and the sounds and the sunlight, he trailed a paw in the water and dreamed long waking dreams. The Water Rat, like the good little fellow he was, sculled steadily on and forbore to disturb him.

"I like your clothes awfully, old chap," he remarked after some half an hour or so had passed. "I'm going to get a black velvet smoking-suit myself some day, as soon as I can afford it." "I beg your pardon," said the Mole, pulling himself together with an effort. "You must think me very rude; but all this is so new to me. So—this—is—a—River!" "The River," corrected the Rat. "And you really live by the river? What a jolly life!" "By it and with it and on it and in it," said the Rat. "It's brother and sister to me, and aunts, and company, and food and drink, and (naturally) washing. It's my world, and I don't want any other. What it hasn't got is not worth having, and what it doesn't know is not worth knowing. Lord! the times we've had together! Whether in winter or summer, spring or autumn, it's always got its fun and its excitements.

When the floods are on in February, and my cellars and basement are brimming with drink that's no good to me, and the brown water runs by my best bedroom window; or again when it all drops away and shows patches of mud that smells like plum-cake, and the rushes and weed clog the channels, and I can potter about dry shod over most of the bed of it and find fresh food to eat, and things careless people have dropped out of boats!" "But isn't it a bit dull at times?" the Mole ventured to ask. "Just you and the river, and no one else to pass a word with?" "No one else to—well, I mustn't be hard on you," said the Rat with forbearance. "You're new to it, and of course you don't know. The bank is so crowded nowadays that many people are moving away altogether. O no, it isn't what it used to be, at all.

Otters, king-fishers, dabchicks, moorhens, all of them about all day long and always wanting you to do something—as if a fellow had no business of his own to attend to!" "What lies over there?" asked the Mole, waving a paw towards a background of woodland that darkly framed the water-meadows on one side of the river. "That? O, that's just the Wild Wood," said the Rat shortly. "We don't go there very much, we river-bankers." "Aren't they—aren't they very nice people in there?" said the Mole a trifle nervously. "W-e-ll," replied the Rat, "let me see. The squirrels are all right. And the rabbits—some of 'em, but rabbits are a mixed lot. And then there's Badger, of course. He lives right in the heart of it; wouldn't live anywhere else, either, if you paid him to do it. Dear old Badger! Nobody interferes with him. They'd better not," he added significantly. "Why, who should interfere with him?" asked the Mole.

"Well, of course—there—are others," explained the Rat in a hesitating sort of way. "Weasels—and stoats—and foxes—and so on. They're all right in a way—I'm very good friends with them—pass the time of day when we meet, and all that—but they break out sometimes, there's no denying it, and then—well, you can't really trust them, and that's the fact." The Mole knew well that it is quite against animal-etiquette to dwell on possible trouble ahead, or even to allude to it; so he dropped the subject. "And beyond the Wild Wood again?" he asked; "where it's all blue and dim, and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn't, and something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?" "Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wide World," said the Rat. "And that's something that doesn't matter, either to you or me. I've never been there, and I'm never going, nor you either, if you've got any sense at all. Don't ever refer to it again, please. Now then!

Here's our backwater at last, where we're going to lunch." Leaving the main stream, they now passed into what seemed at first sight like a little landlocked lake. Green turf sloped down to either edge, brown snaky tree-roots gleamed below the surface of the quiet water, while ahead of them the silvery shoulder and foamy tumble of a weir, arm-in-arm with a restless dripping mill-wheel, that held up in its turn a grey-gabled mill-house, filled the air with a soothing murmur of sound, dull and smothery, yet with little clear voices speaking up cheerfully out of it at intervals. It was so very beautiful that the Mole could only hold up both fore-paws and gasp: "O my! O my! O my!" The Rat brought the boat alongside the bank, made her fast, helped the still awkward Mole safely ashore, and swung out the luncheon-basket.

The Mole begged as a favour to be allowed to unpack it all by himself; and the Rat was very pleased to indulge him, and to sprawl at full length on the grass and rest, while his excited friend shook out the table-cloth and spread it, took out all the mysterious packets one by one and arranged their contents in due order, still gasping: "O my! O my!" at each fresh revelation. When all was ready, the Rat said, "Now, pitch in, old fellow!" and the Mole was indeed very glad to obey, for he had started his spring-cleaning at a very early hour that morning, as people will do, and had not paused for bite or sup; and he had been through a very great deal since that distant time which now seemed so many days ago. "What are you looking at?" said the Rat presently, when the edge of their hunger was somewhat dulled, and the Mole's eyes were able to wander off the table-cloth a little. "I am looking," said the Mole, "at a streak of bubbles that I see travelling along the surface of the water. That is a thing that strikes me as funny." "Bubbles?

Oho!" said the Rat, and chirruped cheerily in an inviting sort of way. A broad glistening muzzle showed itself above the edge of the bank, and the Otter hauled himself out and shook the water from his coat. "Greedy beggars!" he observed, making for the provender. "Why didn't you invite me, Ratty?" "This was an impromptu affair," explained the Rat. "By the way—my friend Mr. Mole." "Proud, I'm sure," said the Otter, and the two animals were friends forthwith. "Such a rumpus everywhere!" continued the Otter. "All the world seems out on the river to-day. I came up this backwater to try and get a moment's peace, and then stumble upon you fellows!—At least—I beg pardon—I don't exactly mean that, you know." There was a rustle behind them, proceeding from a hedge wherein last year's leaves still clung thick, and a stripy head, with high shoulders behind it, peered forth on them. "Come on, old Badger!" shouted the Rat. The Badger trotted forward a pace or two, then grunted, "H'm!

Company," and turned his back and disappeared from view. "That's just the sort of fellow he is!" observed the disappointed Rat. "Simply hates Society! Now we shan't see any more of him to-day. Well, tell us, who's out on the river?" "Toad's out, for one," replied the Otter. "In his brand-new wager-boat; new togs, new everything!" The two animals looked at each other and laughed. "Once, it was nothing but sailing," said the Rat. "Then he tired of that and took to punting. Nothing would please him but to punt all day and every day, and a nice mess he made of it. Last year it was house-boating, and we all had to go and stay with him in his house-boat, and pretend we liked it. He was going to spend the rest of his life in a house-boat.

It's all the same, whatever he takes up; he gets tired of it, and starts on something fresh." "Such a good fellow, too," remarked the Otter reflectively; "but no stability—especially in a boat!" From where they sat they could get a glimpse of the main stream across the island that separated them; and just then a wager-boat flashed into view, the rower—a short, stout figure—splashing badly and rolling a good deal, but working his hardest. The Rat stood up and hailed him, but Toad—for it was he—shook his head and settled sternly to his work. "He'll be out of the boat in a minute if he rolls like that," said the Rat, sitting down again. "Of course he will," chuckled the Otter. "Did I ever tell you that good story about Toad and the lock-keeper? It happened this way. Toad...." An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life. A swirl of water and a "cloop!" and the May-fly was visible no more. Neither was the Otter. The Mole looked down.

The voice was still in his ears, but the turf whereon he had sprawled was clearly vacant. Not an Otter to be seen, as far as the distant horizon. But again there was a streak of bubbles on the surface of the river. The Rat hummed a tune, and the Mole recollected that animal-etiquette forbade any sort of comment on the sudden disappearance of one's friends at any moment, for any reason or no reason whatever. "Well, well," said the Rat, "I suppose we ought to be moving. I wonder which of us had better pack the luncheon-basket?" He did not speak as if he was frightfully eager for the treat. "O, please let me," said the Mole. So, of course, the Rat let him. Packing the basket was not quite such pleasant work as unpacking the basket. It never is. But the Mole was bent on enjoying everything, and although just when he had got the basket packed and strapped up tightly he saw a plate staring up at him from the grass, and when the job had been done again the Rat pointed out a fork which anybody ought to have seen, and last of all, behold!

the mustard pot, which he had been sitting on without knowing it—still, somehow, the thing got finished at last, without much loss of temper. The afternoon sun was getting low as the Rat sculled gently homewards in a dreamy mood, murmuring poetry-things over to himself, and not paying much attention to Mole. But the Mole was very full of lunch, and self-satisfaction, and pride, and already quite at home in a boat (so he thought), and was getting a bit restless besides: and presently he said, "Ratty! Please, I want to row, now!" The Rat shook his head with a smile. "Not yet, my young friend," he said; "wait till you've had a few lessons. It's not so easy as it looks." The Mole was quiet for a minute or two. But he began to feel more and more jealous of Rat, sculling so strongly and so easily along, and his pride began to whisper that he could do it every bit as well.

He jumped up and seized the sculls so suddenly that the Rat, who was gazing out over the water and saying more poetry-things to himself, was taken by surprise and fell backwards off his seat with his legs in the air for the second time, while the triumphant Mole took his place and grabbed the sculls with entire confidence. "Stop it, you silly ass!" cried the Rat, from the bottom of the boat. "You can't do it! You'll have us over!" The Mole flung his sculls back with a flourish, and made a great dig at the water. He missed the surface altogether, his legs flew up above his head, and he found himself lying on the top of the prostrate Rat. Greatly alarmed, he made a grab at the side of the boat, and the next moment—Sploosh! Over went the boat, and he found himself struggling in the river. O my, how cold the water was, and O, how very wet it felt! How it sang in his ears as he went down, down, down! How bright and welcome the sun looked as he rose to the surface coughing and spluttering! How black was his despair when he felt himself sinking again!

Then a firm paw gripped him by the back of his neck. It was the Rat, and he was evidently laughing—the Mole could feel him laughing, right down his arm and through his paw, and so into his—the Mole's—neck. The Rat got hold of a scull and shoved it under the Mole's arm; then he did the same by the other side of him and, swimming behind, propelled the helpless animal to shore, hauled him out, and set him down on the bank, a squashy, pulpy lump of misery. When the Rat had rubbed him down a bit, and wrung some of the wet out of him, he said, "Now then, old fellow! Trot up and down the towing-path as hard as you can, till you're warm and dry again, while I dive for the luncheon-basket." So the dismal Mole, wet without and ashamed within, trotted about till he was fairly dry, while the Rat plunged into the water again, recovered the boat, righted her and made her fast, fetched his floating property to shore by degrees, and finally dived successfully for the luncheon-basket and struggled to land with it.

When all was ready for a start once more, the Mole, limp and dejected, took his seat in the stern of the boat; and as they set off, he said in a low voice, broken with emotion, "Ratty, my generous friend! I am very sorry indeed for my foolish and ungrateful conduct. My heart quite fails me when I think how I might have lost that beautiful luncheon-basket. Indeed, I have been a complete ass, and I know it. Will you overlook it this once and forgive me, and let things go on as before?" "That's all right, bless you!" responded the Rat cheerily. "What's a little wet to a Water Rat? I'm more in the water than out of it most days. Don't you think any more about it; and look here! I really think you had better come and stop with me for a little time. It's very plain and rough, you know—not like Toad's house at all—but you haven't seen that yet; still, I can make you comfortable.

And I'll teach you to row and to swim, and you'll soon be as handy on the water as any of us." The Mole was so touched by his kind manner of speaking that he could find no voice to answer him; and he had to brush away a tear or two with the back of his paw. But the Rat kindly looked in another direction, and presently the Mole's spirits revived again, and he was even able to give some straight back-talk to a couple of moorhens who were sniggering to each other about his bedraggled appearance. When they got home, the Rat made a bright fire in the parlour, and planted the Mole in an arm-chair in front of it, having fetched down a dressing-gown and slippers for him, and told him river stories till supper-time. Very thrilling stories they were, too, to an earth-dwelling animal like Mole.

Stories about weirs, and sudden floods, and leaping pike, and steamers that flung hard bottles—at least bottles were certainly flung, and from steamers, so presumably by them; and about herons, and how particular they were whom they spoke to; and about adventures down drains, and night-fishings with Otter, or excursions far a-field with Badger. Supper was a most cheerful meal; but very shortly afterwards a terribly sleepy Mole had to be escorted upstairs by his considerate host, to the best bedroom, where he soon laid his head on his pillow in great peace and contentment, knowing that his new-found friend, the River, was lapping the sill of his window. This day was only the first of many similar ones for the emancipated Mole, each of them longer and full of interest as the ripening summer moved onward. He learnt to swim and to row, and entered into the joy of running water; and with his ear to the reed-stems he caught, at intervals, something of what the wind went whispering so constantly among them. Simply Messing About In Boats | Shirts, Tote Bags, Gifts Spoofing or forged e-mail.

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Question: According to Kenneth Graham (in Wind in the Willows) there is "nothing - absolutely nothing half so much worth doing as ..." what?
Answer: (simply) messing about in boats